


The Struggle to Stay Human

by 30MinuteLoop



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30MinuteLoop/pseuds/30MinuteLoop
Summary: Michael Burnham finds being on the ISS Charon exceptionally difficult and isolating. Filling in some of Michael's emotional/mental state during S1E12. Spoilers up until that point.





	The Struggle to Stay Human

Michael entered the quarters Emperor Georgiou had given her for their stay. About as large as the captain's quarters on the Shenzhou, but thankfully with little otherwise to remind her of being there. The quarters were decorated starkly, but with bronzed metal around the doorways, and plush burgundy chairs. A large bed was off to the right.

She sat in one of the chairs facing away from the bed, sinking down into its softness. This was the closest she'd gotten to a hug in what felt like forever. Had it only been a day?

 _I tried_. Ash's face appeared in her memory, broken, struggling. _For you, the one I want to be human for._

Michael squeezed her eyes shut, recalling how his face had changed when Voq had fully taken over. And she could still feel Ash's - Voq's - hands around her throat.

_Will I always be betrayed? Will I always betray others? Who can I count on?_

"I am at your service, Captain."

She opened her eyes to see a Kelpien slave in the doorway between the sitting room and what was probably the bathroom, hunched over in their subservient manner. It was not the Kelpien she had picked out in the emperor's throne room, the one that reminded her of Saru - someone, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath, yes, someone she could trust.

"Thank you," she said, before remembering: _kindness marks you. Compassion is a liability._ More sharply, she continued, "I'm fine. Leave me."

The Kelpien retreated backwards, out of her sight.

Sitting in this large, warm chair reminded her of sitting in bed against Ash's chest, feeling safe and protected in a cruel place. What hope could there be for her when her only comfort was... _a chair?_

She nearly leapt to her feet, disgusted by this self-pity, but feeling more vulnerable than ever.

She fought to fix in her mind the images of her friends and colleagues: Saru sitting in the captain's chair of Discovery, Tilly playing her role as Captain Killy and working hard down in engineering, Stamets lying comatose in sickbay, Captain Lorca suffering another round of unimaginable torment in an agonizer booth somewhere in this ship. They, too, were struggling against incredible odds. She had to help them. In doing so, she would help herself.

 _Ash killed Hugh_. _He would have killed me_.

Now, alone, waiting to be summoned by the emperor, the full force of these truths hit her. She let her knees collapse beneath her and she sank to the floor. Michael buried her face in the chair and let herself shake with silent sobs.

 

It had felt cathartic to be able to cry, even in such a restricted manner. But her outbreak of grief had been replaced with a bone-deep sadness. She had spent the remainder of her time alone in meditation, getting her emotions back under control.

It had still taken every ounce of strength and willpower Michael had to show up at that dinner with Emperor Georgiou.

Her heart was a stone, sitting heavy in her chest, as she sat next to this familiar presence, the spitting image of her mentor and friend. Except this emperor's face seemed gaunt, pulled tight, close to death, harried by stress and by the strain of maintaining her power and control.

It was not a good look on her old friend. And yet if Michael had had ten more years with her Georgiou, time might have aged her into quite a similar visage. 

A lump formed in her throat. _Philippa, I wish you were here._

She blinked back the emotions and refocused on the meal before her.

A steaming bowl of soup had been placed there just moments before by a Kelpien slave; again, not the Kelpien she had chosen in the emperor's court. 

The flesh in the soup looked like scallops, or some other sort of pale Earth seafood. It smelled like pig. She had never liked seafood, but she had liked pork...

As a child, she had gradually taken to the Vulcan custom of avoiding eating animals, even replicated animal flesh. Although when she first came to Vulcan, she had demanded replicated hamburgers and beef burritos and collard greens with pork, like her parents used to make. Sarek and Amanda had acquiesced, downloading the recipes to their home replicator.

Over time, as she felt at home on Vulcan, she had come to prefer Vulcan food.

Terrans ate a fair amount of replicated food, but the practice still turned her stomach. And it didn't seem beyond the scope of this ship, or beyond the abilities of Terran bases, to keep animals for slaughter. It seemed part and parcel of their emphasis on brutality, in delighting in death and violence, and literally consuming and breathing suffering as part of their daily lives. But part of her role as mirror Captain Burnham was eating like the Terrans. 

_It's most likely replicated_ , she told herself firmly, putting aside her misgivings to get on with the mission. _They're at war. Rations are limited.  
_

She took her spoon and lifted some soup to her mouth. The flavor was more reminiscent of pork as well, and surprisingly chewy, but pleasantly so. She could taste a variety of seasonings in the soup, and a hint of lemon. "The food is delicious, as always," she told Phil - _the emperor_ , even meaning it.

"No one prepares Kelpien like the Imperial Chef."

Michael felt her throat close around the last bite still sliding down to her stomach. Her gut twisted and threatened to revolt.

The face of the Kelpien slave, so similar to Saru's, reappeared in her head. _This is what you picked him for?_

She forced herself to swallow the bite. It was necessary to maintain her cover. But it was another betrayal of her soul.

Michael reached for her wine glass. Here was yet another thing she would never normally consume, but now she gratefully accepted a gulp of its sweet, burning flavor and the slight tempering of her horror and disgust

"Here, have my ganglia. You deserve a treat."

Now the emperor had to be _testing_ her. _Does she suspect who I am?_ She had never desired a drink so much as she did now, feeling tempted to just gulp her whole glass down and ask for another. _Don't draw attention to yourself!_

She paused and swallowed down her nausea, collecting herself from running away with her own thoughts, before leaning forward. The emperor had extended her fork, poised it above the table with a pale worm-like tendril dangling from it.

 _Put it in your mouth, chew, swallow_ , she repeated to herself until the ganglia - no - food - no - _thing_ was all the way in her stomach.

Emperor Georgiou regarded her with a distant, but inquisitive expression. Michael spent the rest of the meal waiting for the question she expected Emperor Georgiou to ask, the question about her sudden reluctance to eat Kelpien flesh.

But as it turned out, Michael had betrayed herself before she had ever shown up on the ISS Charon, and she in turn still had yet more betrayals to accept.

**Author's Note:**

> Burnham being a vegetarian, as is customary on Vulcan, is mentioned in the Discovery novel Desperate Hours.
> 
> I love kudos and comments! Thanks for reading.


End file.
